


I Feel Like I’m Drowning

by PredatoryFlamingo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 02:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PredatoryFlamingo/pseuds/PredatoryFlamingo
Summary: Severus Snape survived Naginis attack and fought in the Battle of Hogwarts on the light side. An old classmate of his, now one of the aurors that fought alongside him in the final battle, seeks him out afterwards. They both feel like suffocating under everything that happened and need to get some air...and to feel that their still alive.





	I Feel Like I’m Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnaPsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaPsy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I feel like I'm drowning](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/424496) by Two Feet. 



> I was inspired by a song - as always - to write this really, REALLY short one-shot (I know, SO short xD). The song's called "I feel like I'm drowning" by Two Feet and you can listen to it while reading this. Or not. I'll leave that up to you ;)
> 
> This started out as just some artsy piece with two random people needing each other. However, talking to my beloved friend who gets to read all of my stuff (whether she likes it or not), I realised that the story actually fit something Snape-y in my mind. So I decided this now applies to some OFC and Snape who went to school together and then met again during the Battle of Hogwarts.
> 
> Also: Snape's character has changed A LOT in my head from the Original and I've grown to think about him in pretty un-cannon-y terms, so make of this what you will ;)

 

 

 

She knew it was _wrong_ the minute she knocked on his door. She just knew she was committing a _terrible_ mistake. She knew that a _lot_ of things she did were wrong. Her problem was that she rarely acted according to her knowledge. And rarely cared about the consequences until it was too late.

 

Three knocks. A few seconds passed. She wasn’t afraid, wasn’t uncertain, wasn’t worried.

 

Regrets were for mornings after, not for promising evenings.

 

A click, a silent creaking, a door opening for her, a man standing aside. Entering his rooms without hesitation she passed him and he closed the door behind her. Another creaking, another click and she turned to face him. One step, two…and she pressed up against him, her body fitting into his perfectly. Her hands around his neck, thumbs stroking his jaw softly and then his hands in her hair and their lips together. Rushed kisses, hungry, searing, almost violent. Desperate breaths drawn in between. Like they were drowning and the only salvation they could find was in their heartbeat against each other’s chests.

 

Moving away from the door into the safety of the fire lit room, still together, hands wandering, clothes falling. Hasty touches on hot skin coming alive to the feeling of long missed intimacy. Stumbling, collapsing and still not parting, landing in a tangle of limbs on his bed. Melting into one. Moaned invitation and silent cries. Still gasping for air, still drowning and again finding relief only in his embrace, holding tight, as close as she could. Vulnerable in her suffering but not hiding it. Opening herself up to him completely, releasing control, gripping her freedom and bathing in it. Finally regaining oxygen into empty burning lungs, dampening down the heat inside her, bursting with steaming energy.

 

She was **alive** and he made her _feel_ it.

He was **alive** and she made him _remember_ it.

 

Cooling down together in contented stillness, the only movement their heaving chests, breaths flowing easier and slowly deepening towards blind oblivion, sinking towards the ocean bed. Sleep finding them in lingering embrace, the fireplace merely glowing now, darkness and soothing cold descending onto them, drowning out coherent thought.

 

Regrets were for _mornings after_.


End file.
